Let the Light In
by MauVeGoddess
Summary: Ron is alone. Draco needs a friend. But will they admit it? DMRW SLASH.
1. Need to be Alone

**Title**: Let the Light In**  
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**Author**: MauVeGoddess

**Pairings**: Draco/Ron, Harry/Hermione

**Warning**: Slash fic. If you don't like slash, please leave now, but don't flame us.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter, etc., belongs to J.K. Rowling et al.

**Summary: **Ron is drifting apart from his friends. Draco is blinded by his father when he refuses the Dark Mark. Will a new friendship form?**  
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Chapter One**

**Need to be Alone

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"_But Harry—" The slamming door punctuated Ron's exasperated words._

"_I just need to be alone!" Harry shouted through the door. Ron heard him run off._

Ron knew that if he tried to follow him, he would only anger Harry more. Sitting down on his bed, he stretched out and picked up the copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ lying on his bedside table. Quidditch always relaxed him. Soon after that he dosed off, book still atop his chest.

Ron woke up to the front door slamming. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the spot on his ceiling that had been bewitched to read the time. Four o'clock. He had probably only been asleep for about an hour. He removed the book from his stomach and contemplated whether or not it was worth it to get up and see who was home. Bill and Charlie didn't live with them anymore. Fred and George's joke shop was doing well now, and they usually didn't get home until six or seven each night. Ginny was spending the day at Luna Lovegood's house and wouldn't be back until after dinner. With a small groan, he pivoted out of bed and stood up. Ron stretched and tidied out his covers. He walked out of his bedroom and down the hall until he came to the stairwell.

Ron heard urgent whispers in the living room. Molly Weasley was arguing furiously with her husband. Ron crept quietly down the stairs and peered through the doorframe. Harry was sprawled limply across the couch. Ron stifled a gasp as he looked at his friend, lying there lifelessly. It was all he could do not to run towards him and see if he was alright, but he needed to hear what his parents were saying.

Pressing his back flat against the wall, he turned his head until he could see his parents. His mother was standing stiffly in the middle of the living room, as she always did when she argued. His father stood opposite her, slouching slightly in defeat. They both looked very worn out, clothing askew and dirt-streaked from running home with Harry's prostrate form.

"We _can't_ bring him to St. Mungo's, Arthur. What if Voldemort's still out there? He could be waiting until we leave to finish Harry off!" Molly Weasley's face was red from the effort of whispering angrily.

"Now, Molly. Harry needs professional care right away. You know that St. Mungo's is the only place that can deal with injuries this bad. Do we want Harry to die while we're waiting for Voldemort to come kill him?" Arthur countered. He gave a concerned glance at his wife, who immediately fired back.

"Arthur! Are you saying my magical skills aren't—"

"Molly, I just want to—"

Ron pulled his head back, resting it against the wall, and shut his eyes to block out the argument. He wondered if he could have done anything differently to prevent this. He should have stopped Harry, should have gone with him at least. His last words to his friend rang over and over in his mind. Ron straightened up slowly and walked silently until he was practically between his parents. Only then did they look up and acknowledge his presence. Ron used the opportunity to voice his opinion.

"Mom—Dad—Look, he went for that—walk—hours ago. Who knows how long he's been unconscious? We need to get him to St. Mungo's now. He's been lying here long enough." Both his parents looked at him, taking time to register what he had said. Coming to her senses, his mother frowned.

"Ron! How many times have I told you not to eavesdrop? I mean—" Molly Weasley was interrupted by Arthur.

"Molly, would you please stop yelling at Ron for just a minute and listen to what he has to say! Harry could be _dying_ right now, for all we know!"

Mrs. Weasley, for once in her life, shut up in the middle of a violent disciplinary monologue.

"Go on, Ron. Take Arthur's side. You guys always band against me." She looked from her husband to her son, waiting for whatever else he had to say.

"Well… that was pretty much what I had to say," Ron concluded. He saw the look of finality that his dad gave his mom, and realized that the discussion was over. Mr. Weasley gave a sympathetic smile to his wife and glanced over at Harry.

"We'll have to Floo him to St. Mungo's." said Molly, quickly recovering from the defeat. "We won't be able to Apparate him while he's unconscious."

"Right. Well, let's get him over to the fireplace. _Wingardium Leviosa._" Mr. Weasley flicked his wand in the air. Harry's body floated gently over to where they now stood, and Mr. Weasley caught him, carrying him into the chimney. Mrs. Weasley through in some floo powder, and Mr. Weasley's clear order rang out as they disappeared. "St. Mungo's!"

Ron took a handful of floo powder and went next. Mrs. Weasley sighed, and with one last glance at the empty house, took some herself and shouted the name of the hospital into the fire.

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Like it so far? Please review and we'll try to put some more up as quickly as possible. Thanks! 


	2. See it My Way

**Title**: Let the Light In

**Author**: MauVeGoddess

**Pairings**: Draco/Ron, Harry/Hermione

**Warning**: Slash fic. If you don't like slash, please leave now, but don't flame us.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter, etc., belongs to J.K. Rowling et al.

**Summary: **Ron is drifting apart from his friends. Draco is blinded by his father when he refuses the Dark Mark. Will a new friendship form?

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**Chapter Two **

**See it my Way**

"_Crucio!"_

Lucius braced himself for the pain Voldemort had just cast on him. As always, it hit him full in the stomach. He curled himself into a ball and time seemed to slow down for the torture. Just when he thought he would pass out from the intense pain radiating through his body, it stopped.

"This is what happens when you screw things up, Lucius." Voldemort hissed. "What did I ask you to do – find a time when the boy would be caught unaware – but you couldn't manage even that!"

"Please, Master, I thought he was distracted! He was walking down the road, unprotected by wards and not thinking about protecting himself!" Lucius cried, recoiling at the unveiled anger coursing through his master's red eyes.

"_Crucio!_ Don't go making excuses Lucius… you screwed up and you can't even be man enough to admit it." Voldemort ended his second Crucio of the night with a glare to his servant. "How do you expect us to win a war against "the Boy-Who-Lived" when we have so few Death Eaters!"

"I am dutifully searching for more loyal servants, my Lord, but I have the Ministry on my tail and I must remain discreet."

"What about your boy, Draco? Why has he not yet received the Dark Mark? Surely he is of age…" Voldemort questioned threateningly.

"You may have him as soon as you wish, Master. He eagerly awaits your command." Lucius stared at the floor, evading Voldemort's icy stare.

"Well then, do what you must to prepare, I _will_ have him tonight." Voldemort finished his statement by giving Lucius a malicious look.

Lucius bowed down to his Master and Apparated quickly back to Malfoy Manor.

Draco looked up as his father Apparated into his room.

"The Dark Lord wants you to receive the Dark Mark tonight. I expect you to be ready to leave in half an hour." Lucius commanded.

"No. I have other plans." Draco said quickly, looking anywhere but his father's livid face.

"I don't care what you WERE going to do. You're coming, and that's the end of it," said Lucius firmly. Draco summoned up his courage. He knew it was now or never.

"You can drag me there. Do what you want. But when it comes time for me to submit, I will refuse." Draco replied evenly, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Maybe this will make you see it my way," Lucius said drawing his wand, "_Noceo Oculus!_"

Draco clutched his eyes as pain flooded his vision. It soon faded, but as he uncovered his eyes, he saw only black. No longer able to cope with what was happening, Draco passed out.

When he awoke, he felt bandages on his face, covering his eyes. He felt around, and decided he was probably lying on a hospital cot. He heard a noise to his right as someone walked towards his bed. He could only guess that it was his father.

"You're in St. Mungo's, Draco. Don't think I took you here out of love or even pity - the ministry would be suspicious if I hadn't. I told the mediwitch that you were practicing magic in your study when something went wrong and one of your spells reflected back onto you. This is the curse of your pride, Draco. You will never admit that you couldn't protect yourself from one little spell from your father." A small laugh escaped his lips. "Therefore, I don't see why they should _ever_ know the truth. Even if you did tell them, who would believe the word of a weak teenage boy?"

"You see, Draco, this is what happens when you disobey the Dark Lord. Not that you'll be any use to him now, in such a pathetic state!" Lucius glared hatefully down at his son. "I want you to remember why I did this to you every day for the rest of your miserable life," he hissed. Without another word, Lucius Malfoy turned on his heel and walked out of St. Mungo's.

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I Heart DM 11: We'll get there soon enough, but if we kill off Harry, Ron might get attention again, and never make friends with a certain blond! 


	3. Hurry Up

**Title**: Let the Light In**  
**

**Author**: MauVeGoddess

**Pairings**: Draco/Ron, Harry/Hermione

**Warning**: Slash fic. If you don't like slash, please leave now, but don't flame us.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter, etc., belongs to J.K. Rowling et al.

**Summary: **Ron is drifting apart from his friends. Draco is blinded by his father when he refuses the Dark Mark. Will a new friendship form?

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**Chapter Three **

**Hurry Up

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"Hello, how may I help you?" A bored clerk asked, doodling at her station as the four Flooed into the front lobby fireplace at St. Mungo's.

"Umm… well…" Ron articulated.

She looked up, and saw the group standing before her, huddled around a redheaded man who was holding a boy.

"Well—how about Spell Damage on the fourth floor… I'll tell them you're coming. Just go straight; the hall will direct you there." She gave them a quick smile and returned to her doodling.

They pulled open the door of the ward and stepped inside.

"Hello, and welcome to the Spell Damage Ward. How may I help you?" An attendant asked.

Ron's mother started babbling at the attendant.

"We found him just an hour ago, lying by the road and looking almost dead! He hasn't woken since then, and we don't know what happened, and we're so worried! Will he be ok? Aren't you supposed to be doing something? Don't just stand there!"

The distracted attendant's face paled. "Is that—could that be—Harry Potter?"

"Yes, it's Harry Potter, and if you don't hurry up, he won't live to sign any autographs for you. So hurry up and save his life or he's going to die!" Ron exploded.

The attendant raced down the hall and disappeared into a door near the end of a hall. Soon she came back with other white-garbed attendants and a stretcher. They wheeled Harry along to a faraway room.

Then all the Weasleys could do was wait.

Arthur Weasley paced the magenta waiting room and Molly Weasley fidgeted in her squeaky chair. Mrs. Weasley had written a note telling her other children where they were so they wouldn't worry when they arrived home to an empty house. She had sent a hospital owl to the Burrow with the note, and come back still very upset. Ron wandered down the halls, peering into the rooms with windows to see if he could find out where Harry was.

As window after window showed yet another sleeping child, Ron barely glanced into the rooms. Room number 248… number 249… number 250… Wait. He knew that face. He retraced his steps back to room number 249. Was that—no, it couldn't be—_Malfoy?_ He was lying down, his eyes bandaged, and Lucius Malfoy stood over him, his face pale with rage.

Ron turned away quickly from the scene. He had other things to think about… Like whether or not his best friend was dead yet.

Hermione arrived at the Burrow the next day. She rushed through the door, dropped her bags in the kitchen and saw Ron sitting there, eating a pile of pancakes.

"Ron, I got your owl, and my parents let me come back from Italy early. Is Harry all right? When can I—we—go see him?"

"Well, Harry—he's—not…" Ron trailed off as his mother bustled into the kitchen.

"Ronald, are you sure that's enough breakfast? I can make sausages, too—_Hermione!_ It's so wonderful you could come! Here let me take those bags up to Ginny's room—" Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and the suitcases floated up the stairs. "Now, how was your trip? Would you like some breakfast? We have pancakes, and sausages…"

She bent over the stove, muttered a few words, and then sausages were sizzling on a pan. "Harry will be so glad to see you! He's not awake yet, but we're hoping…"

Hermione sat down next to Ron and a plate appeared in front of her, piled with pancakes. "The sausages are almost done, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm sure you must be hungry from your trip. Tell me, how was Italy?"

"Wonderful. Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione managed to say before Molly Weasley started talking again.

"Oh, good. Now, I want you to eat all that's on your plates, you hear? It'll be a long day at St. Mungo's…"

Hermione and Ron managed to get some whispered conversation in as Mrs. Weasley talked.

"How's Harry, really?" Hermione asked.

Ron said, "Well, he's still out. None of us know how long it's been. You-Know-Who could have… gotten… him anytime he was out on that walk."

"His walk? Why weren't you with him, Ron? _Is there something you didn't tell me?" _Hermione glared suspiciously at Ron.

"Er, well…Harry and I were having a bit of a row, and he was reminded of Sirius again. He stormed out of the house, even though I tried to tell him it was dangerous—"

"Poor Harry. He hasn't been the same since June."

"I know, and it's maddening! I mean, we miss Sirius too! But not like Harry, where he can't smile and can't think of anything but him! _Anything_ reminds Harry of Sirius! I mean, come on!" Ron complained.

"He is grieving, Ron," Hermione reminded him. "He has a lot to deal with right now, what with You-Know-Who and the Order—"

"I know, but he doesn't have to sit there doing nothing! He needs to snap out of it, or You-Know-Who will finish him off like he almost did yesterday! Harry's too depressed to protect himself!" Ron ranted. "I've been spending all summer with him, Hermione, and it hasn't been pretty. He does _nothing_ except look at that old family album of his, at the picture of Sirius and his parents! He needs to move on!"

Hermione looked away. "You need to cut him some slack, Ron. He does have a lot on his mind."

"I suppose," Ron said. "But it's just so—frustrating…"

"Let's go get ready for St. Mungo's. Maybe Harry will be awake when we get there." Hermione suggested. They pulled on their cloaks and went to find the rest of the Weasleys.

In the waiting room, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley all waited anxiously until they were called in to visit Harry.

"Why is it that every waiting room in the whole universe seems to have old, out of date issues of Wandlights! Does anybody over the age of 3 even read this thing?" Ginny complained. "I mean look at the garbage in here: Find the hidden wands and brooms, fill in the blank spell puzzles, stupid stories about wizards and witches that find Bowtruckles in their backyards and write poems about them… How is this entertaining?"

"Hush up, Ginny, mind your manners – this is a public place, and I will not have you making a scene!" Molly Weasley looked distraught, but not focused on what was happening in front of her.

"Arthur Weasley and family? Mr. Potter is now accepting visitors. Room 262." The receptionist glanced up and nodded at them as they passed through the doorway.

The five walked down the hallway, counting up all the even numbers.

"242, 244, 246, 248…" Ron trailed off as he glanced again into Room 249, at a sleeping Draco Malfoy. Ron stared at him, wondering what had landed him there.

"Hurry up, Ron, we still have seven more rooms to go!" cried Hermione. Ron snapped his gaze away from Malfoy and jogged to keep up with the other four.

"262! This must be his room… I hope he's all right. Oh look, he's awake!" Hermione smiled weakly as she opened the door to Harry's room. "Hi Harry, we came to see how you were feeling. Ron owled me and told me you'd been hurt. I was so worried!" Hermione walked briskly over to the bed and gave her friend a hug.

"Glad to see you're doing better, mate. I'm really sorry about everything… I shouldn't have let you go on your own." Ron looked defeated.

"Don't worry about it Ron, it was my own fault if anybody's. I shouldn't have let my guard down like that. Don't blame yourself…" Harry said, trying to cheer his sullen friend up. "Anyway, the doctor said I'd be alright to go back for the start of school."

"That's wonderful, Harry! That way you won't have to catch up on any schoolwork." Hermione beamed.

Ron looked on as Hermione and Harry continued to talk, feeling out of place with his two friends. He had been feeling like this more and more lately. He was a third wheel to Harry and Hermione, who were growing closer and closer. Sometimes he felt like he had no one to talk to who really cared. He had even stopped telling the other two his secrets. He kept them all bottled up inside.

Turning, he walked out of the room. No one had even noticed as he left. He paced up and down the halls, eventually coming back to Room 249. Why was Malfoy there? What were those bandages doing covering his eyes? Ron shook his head to clear it. What was he thinking! Since when did he care about Malfoy, a boy who insulted his friends and family at every chance? Maybe it was since he lost those friends, Ron thought bitterly. He lowered his head and walked quietly back to Harry's room.


	4. Be Careful

**Chapter Four**

**Be Careful**

"Draco, get up. It's time for your acclimation therapy." The raspy voice of Aspera, the mediwitch who took him to therapy echoed in his ears as he stretched and reached up to fix his hair.

"Give me a minute, honestly! And just because I'm blind doesn't mean you can forget that you're talking to a Malfoy." Malfoy's face fell back into it's usual sneer as he felt for the clothing Aspera had put on the end of his bed before closing the door to wait for him in the hallway. At least all his clothes were black, he thought, so he wouldn't have to worry about whether they matched or not. He carefully pulled off his pyjamas, using the rail on the side of the bed to balance and dropped them on top of his pillow so he could find them later. He found his slacks and pulled them on, fumbling with the clasp. Frowning, he grabbed his jumper and pulled it on. He had gotten much better at changing in the month he had been staying at the hospital, but he knew it still took him much longer than it would have for someone who could see. He slipped into the shoes at the foot of his bed and walked to the door, counting the steps as he always did so he would know when to stop.

As he neared the door, his foot made contact with the leg of a chair and he tripped, sticking his hands out to brace the impending fall. He cursed Aspera's carelessness and stood up slowly. Groping around, he managed to find the doorknob. He turned it and stepped out into the hallway.

"What took you so long? Hurry up, you know Leo doesn't like to be kept waiting!" Aspera said sternly, taking his arm so she could guide him through the building.

"Well I would have come faster, if you hadn't left a chair out for me to trip on."

Draco wanted to say more to convey how much pain she had caused him, but he knew Aspera would leave him to find his own way if he got her mad. And besides, she was normally pretty good about leaving things in exactly the same spot and keeping pathways clear. She even went out of her way to make sure his clothes and sheets were to his satisfaction. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that she cared about him. He wasn't used to that. His father loathed him, and although his mother had loved him, Lucius wouldn't permit her to display any emotion for him at all. Over the years, Draco recognized that she slowly became more and more distant.

He felt Aspera stop and push a door open in front of them, and he quickly snapped back to reality, walking tentatively into the rehab room. He knew that Leo, his rehab healer, would leave things lying around to test him, so he stepped carefully over to where he could hear Aspera and Leo talking.

"Are you sure he's ready?" Aspera asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Ready for what?" Draco demanded.

"Well, today, I'm taking you to muggle London and letting you wander on your own for a while. Of course, I'll be following you, but I promise I'll pretend I don't know you unless you need help. And don't even start with that Malfoy pride rubbish, because no one will recognize you anyway."

"I won't need any help, and I don't care what they think."

"That would be the first time," Leo responded with a chuckle.

"Whatever," Draco said dismissively. "Are we going to go or not!"

"Be careful!" Aspera added in anxiously.

"We'll travel by floo and go through the Leaky Cauldron, if that's alright with his highness," Leo said sarcastically, handing Draco several pound notes.

"Fine. Let's just go." Draco was nervous about being back in public when he wasn't sure if he could get around too well, but he had a new tool Leo had recently equipped him with. It was a small orb, called a Path Pilot, and Leo said he had charmed it emerald green just for Draco. The Path Pilot hovered at Draco's waist, and if Draco put his hand on it and stated a destination, it would slowly go there, giving Draco something to hold onto. It couldn't sense all obstacles that might trip Draco, so it was nowhere near as good as a real guide, but it gave him some freedom.

Leo had transfigured a cane for it to rest on, so he would look less out of place in muggle London. He felt himself being guided into a fireplace, he could tell because it reeked of soot. There was the familiar spinning feeling, and they stumbled into the Leaky Cauldron. There was a dull hum that didn't pick up as the two quickly strode through and into London. Draco felt Leo let go of his arm and fall back into the crowd. He grabbed his Path Pilot.

"The nearest café," he said quietly so as not to attract attention from passersby.

He could feel as the orb started tugging him down the sidewalk, and then stopped abruptly at a zebra crossing.

It started forward again, and he soon felt it bounce as it waited for him to open the door to a café. Reaching out, Draco found the door and pushed. He heard a bell tinkle as he walked into the building, and speaking quietly, directed the Path Pilot to find him an empty table. He felt it stop and groped around for a chair. Feeling the back of one, he ran his hand down to the seat and sat down. He commanded the stick to shrink back into a sphere and quietly slipped into his pocket. A moment later, high-heeled footsteps approached the table.

"What can I get you?" a cheery young woman's voice asked.

"A cappuccino, please," Draco said in a monotone.

"Of course," she replied with a flirty giggle. Draco knew she wouldn't be acting that way once she figured out he was blind.

He waited, lost in thought, until she came back with the coffee. She set it down in front of him.

"Your check's on the table," she announced with the same bright voice.

"Well, could you tell me how much it is?" Draco asked, aggravated that she hadn't put two and two together yet.

"Sure, but can't you see the check? It's right there on the table!"

"As a matter of fact, no, I can't. I'm blind," Draco replied smoothly. He heard her gasp quietly. "So could you tell me how much that's going to be?"

"I'm sorry," said the waitress, snapping out of her trance, "It'll be two quid twenty pee."

"Fine," said Draco, reaching into his pockets. He felt the shape and weight of each coin just like he had done with Leo as practice. He found two one pound coins and placed them on the table. He started to feel for the pence coins when the waitress spoke up.

"Would you like help with that?" she said, much louder than she had spoken before.

"First of all, I'm not deaf, and second, no thank you, I know how to count change." Draco knew this was something he would have to get used to, but it was hard not to get angry when people treated you like an invalid. Draco felt the slightly heptagonal twenty pence coin and pulled it out of his pocket, putting it forcefully on the table. He heard the waitress utter a quiet 'thank you', gather the change, and walk away quickly.

Sighing, Draco felt the tabletop, moving his hands forward until he felt his cup. He grasped it with both hands and brought it carefully to his lips. He drank his coffee slowly, and when he was done, he set down his cup and stood up. Pulling the Path Pilot out of his pocket, he commanded it back into the walking stick form and told it to take him back to the Leaky Cauldron. He heard a chair scrape against the floor as Leo got up and followed him out of the café and back to the door outside the famous pub. Leo once more hooked his arm and guided him to the fireplace. He threw in floo powder and called out their destination.

Draco was silent as Leo led him back to his room. Once they got there, Draco pulled his arm back from his guide and walked angrily over to his bed. He sat down and stretched out on the bed, resting his head on the pillow, only to come into contact with his pyjamas, which he threw angrily away from himself. He could hear Leo walk to fetch them from where they had landed.

"Careful, Draco, because what would you do back at school if you couldn't find your pyjamas when you needed them? I won't be there to pick them up. I'm going to put them on the chair next to your bed, alright?" Leo walked toward the bed and stopped by the chair to put the offending articles back in place.

"Fine. Thanks," Draco said tiredly. He wanted to give up so badly. It just wasn't worth it like this. He had nothing to live for: no family, no friends, and no sight.

"So, based on today's experiences, do you think you'll be ready to head back to school in the fall, Draco?" Leo said in a far too perky voice.

"No."

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Thank you to ChEeKeE mUnKeE, Sailor J-chan aka Luna Weasley, I Heart DM 11, aishteru, Switch, ditzbabe592, and RDFCFSAF. I especially love constructive comments, it helps me make my story better for my wonderful readers! Seeing reviews in my inbox is what motivates me to update, so keep 'em comin. Oh, and Sailor J-chan aka Luna Weasley gets a cookie for picking up on the Wandlights/Highlights parody! 


	5. No One Can

**Chapter Five **

**No One Can**

Ron stood on Platform 9¾ looking at the majestic Hogwarts Express. Its steam billowed up in fluffy clouds, gradually fading into thin wisps. The platform was bustling with animated students, all chattering with each other and catching up on events of their summer holidays. Animals sat patiently in cages, waiting to be loaded onto the train. First years bade anxious goodbyes to their parents. All around him, the air was alive. He couldn't help but feel detached and apart from this happy, carefree world of friendships.

Ron gave his mother a numb hug as she said her emotion-filled goodbyes to the group of students. They all boarded the train, and Ginny left the others to sit with her year-mates. Harry managed to grab an empty compartment while Hermione and Ron dashed off for a quick prefect meeting. Afterward, they found Harry again and settled in. Hermione, for once in her life, didn't immediately pull out a book but instead made small talk with Harry about quidditch and classes. Ron was left feeling more alone than ever.

Grabbing his bag, he wandered out of the compartment and strolled the corridors. He came to the loos and walked into one, locking the door carefully behind him. Leaning against the wall, he let out a deep sigh. He felt so empty and devoid of feeling. His mind was reeling with thoughts of how he was losing his friends. They just didn't seem to care as much. They didn't notice him leaving, and he knew that no one was coming to make sure he was alright. He was falling deeper into his depressed mood, and he knew he should try harder to make himself snap out of it, but he was starting to really believe his friends didn't care at all. He let out another sigh and tilted his head up, eyes closed. Something needed to change. He knew he couldn't last all year with things going the way they were.

Ron was going to be alone this entire year. Harry and Hermione would spend all their time with each other. He should have known this would happen eventually. Especially once hormones kicked in. Either Ron or Harry would surely go for Hermione. It was a given. But he hadn't thought about how much the other one would be alienated. It hurt a lot to think that they hadn't even noticed how much they were drifting apart. Ron didn't have other friends like them. He had no one to go to when he wanted to talk something over. He reached into his bag and pulled out a black leather-bound journal with the letter R branded into the leather of the front cover. It was the one thing he had bought himself with money he had earned from working at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes over the holiday. He pulled out a quill and ink and began to write.

_Fuck. Fuck life. I'm getting more and more miserable. No one talks to me. Ever. They can't see my pain. They're wrapped up in themselves. It doesn't matter to them. They have deserted me. I have no one to go to. _

_I'm alone.  
_

_No one can hear my voice._

_Crouching in the shadows._

_And no one can see my face._

_Sitting waiting._

_And no one can feel my pain._

_There's no one who will touch my life._

Ron shut his journal and ran his fingers over the letter imprinted in the cover. He laughed to himself at the thought that he couldn't even bring himself to write his biggest secret in the pages of his journal. Ron kicked the wall. Biting his lip, he grabbed his bag and left. Wandering around again, he found another empty compartment and changed into his school uniform, frowning as he pinned on his prefect badge. He stretched out on a bench and fell asleep.

The sound of the train horn woke Ron up. He stood up, stretching, and grabbed his school bag. Walking off the train, he was met with the magnificent sight of Hogwarts. He glanced around and saw Harry and Hermione. He walked over to them, and they both smiled and said hullo.

"Ron, how come you never came back from changing?" asked Hermione. "We thought you would."

"Oh," muttered Ron, "I fell asleep after I changed. Sorry."

"Doesn't matter, mate, cause we're back at school!" cried Harry, throwing an arm around Ron's shoulder, grabbing Hermione's arm and then steering them to the carriages. The three walked over and hopped into a carriage. Neville ran up behind them and climbed in, tripping over the top step and spilling his papers.

"I'll get them!" chorused the occupants of the carriage. Laughing, they all bent over to help Neville pick them up.

"Oh, thanks you guys," said Neville. "I was running late and I didn't want to miss the carriages. Then I saw the thestrals and, well, let's just say I didn't want to stand around looking at them." Ron saw Harry shudder involuntarily at the mention of the thestrals.

Ron hadn't told his friends he could see them now too. He wasn't sure he would ever tell anyone about that night. It was too painful to think about.

They arrived at the castle, but even its splendor didn't lift Ron's spirits very much. He lagged behind as Harry and Hermione laughed and chatted their way to the Great Hall. Neville caught up with Ginny and started talking with her, leaving Ron alone.

* * *

IloveRon: You'll just have to wait and see! And yes, _Wandlights_ is a parody of _Highlights_. We thought it would be funny if the wizarding world had their own quirks, just the way we do.

Sailor J-chan aka Luna Weasley: The reasons Draco refused the Dark Mark will become clear as he gets closer to Ron. And we will see Ron hopefully about equally with Draco, more so as their storylines interweave.

Princess Of Mirrors: Thanks! Ron's family wasn't really our focus, sorry if they were dull. But in upcoming chapters, we hope to develop Ron even more.

Thanks to Pickle-Kitten, rupertsgurl, RDFCFSAF, and aishteru for their reviews also!


	6. Tell Someone

Their first meal in the Great Hall was a blur, and Ron found himself in his room with little memory of the typical announcements that had consumed his evening. Unpacking his bags, an event he used to find exciting, seemed mundane and depressing now that he had nothing to look forward to for the year. Having his own room, one of the perks of being a prefect, wasn't all bad though. It allowed him some degree of privacy, and separated him from people he knew wouldn't ask if he was ok anyway. That was it, the last of the clothes in his trunk. _Great,_ he thought, _I've already officially run out of things to do._ Sighing, Ron decided to take a walk to the kitchen to see if there was anything left over from dessert.

Walking around alone was only marginally less boring than staying in his room alone, Ron realized. No one was in the halls. He remembered that there had been a small party going on in the Gryffindor common room and decided the same was probably true of other houses. There was the familiar pear picture. Tickling it, he entered the kitchen quietly. Hopefully he wouldn't run into anyone.

"Mister Wheezy!"

Ron whipped around to face a grinning Dobby.

"What can Dobby be getting Mister Wheezy?! Would Mister Wheezy be liking some ginger cake, sir? Dobby is hearing the ginger cake is very good! Dobby always has extra food for friends of Harry Potter!"

"Uhhhhh," Ron started hesitantly, "That sounds good. As much as you can give me. Thanks…"

Dobby rushed around gathering the food like the apocalypse was seconds away. He got the tray back to where Ron was standing, nearly spilling the tray in his feverish attempt to reach him.

"Well... umm, thanks Dobby…"

"No problem, Mister Weezy, Sir! Dobby is loving to help friends of Harry Potter!"

Ron left the kitchen feeling as empty as before, but slightly excited about the ginger cake. He started back down the corridor, stealing bits of the cake as he walked. As he continued, he noticed a door that hadn't been there the year before. Music seemed to be coming from inside the room. Curiosity getting the better of him, he pushed the door open to get a peek inside. What he saw made him stop in his tracks. It was Malfoy. He was sitting motionless in an armchair, apparently listening to the music. The rest of the room was furnished as a bedroom, with a small bathroom visible off the back. Ron was just turning around to leave when a voice cut the silence.

"Who's there?"

Ron froze. The music stopped.

"I asked you a question. Answer me. Who are you?!"

"Ummmm, is it important?" Ron stalled.

"Weasley. Great. What shit luck I have…"

"Malfoy." Ron practically spat out the name. "Why are you even here? The biggest Slytherin dorm didn't cost enough money?"

"Shut it."

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? Have a little fight with Daddy?"

Malfoy was silent. Ron was curious. Finally, Malfoy spoke.

"Is that ginger cake?"

"So what if it is?"

Malfoy sighed.

"Give me some."

"You didn't have enough at dinner?"

"I didn't go to dinner."

"Oh. Why not?" Ron asked condescendingly.

"Are you mentally deficit, Weasley? Have you not noticed I'm fucking BLIND?! Just give me the damn cake."

For once, Ron was speechless. Malfoy, blind? That would explain the hospital stay… This was too good…

"So why are you blind?"

Malfoy tensed up for a moment.

"That's none of your business, Weasel. Just give me some cake."

Ron almost felt bad for the kid. No food? But this was Malfoy he was thinking about. The bastard deserved nothing less.

He gave him cake anyway, unsure quite why. Malfoy scarfed it down like he'd been denied food for days. Ron actually felt bad, but he wasn't certain why he did. Seeing no reason to continue standing awkwardly, Ron put the tray down on a table and sat in a nearby chair.

"Make yourself at home," Malfoy said sarcastically.

"Well you've eaten my food. Is it so unfair that I get to sit down?"

"I suppose not…" Malfoy replied.

"What's wrong with you? Why aren't you the same prick you used to be, huh?"

"Let's just say my father and I had a falling out. Now drop it."

"Bloody hell…" Ron muttered to himself.

"What?!" Malfoy snapped.

"Your father did that, didn't he?" Ron said, gesturing to Malfoy's eyes. Realizing his stupidity, he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, he blinded you."

"I didn't say that…" Malfoy replied in a shaky tone that gave away the real answer.

"Why did he do it?" Ron asked, any hint of malice temporarily dropping from his voice, now replaced by innate curiosity.

"I'll tell you why but then we will stop talking about this," Malfoy said in a perfectly even tone. "I refused the Dark Mark." He said it quickly in a hushed tone, and it took a moment for Ron to process it.

"Oh," he replied when he got his head around it. "Ok."

Those five words had completely challenged most of Ron's view of Malfoy. Admittedly, he was still a prick, but now he was on their side. This changed everything.

"Do you want something else to eat?" Ron asked.

Malfoy took it for what it was: an apology.

"Yes. But it had better be good."

"Watch it Malfoy. I don't have to get you food you know."

"Ok, then, yes, and I like good food."

Ron shook his head and ducked back out of the room. Fortunately by the time he got back to the kitchen the house elves had finished for the night and he was able to help himself to leftovers of a roast with some gravy on it, mashed potatoes, and several rolls.

He snuck back down the hall, praying he wouldn't get caught by the professors patrolling the halls, as he was relatively sure it was past curfew.

Malfoy was staring at the door when he came back. Ron noticed his steel blue eyes seemed cloudy and lifeless. It was a bit creepy.

"Here you go, Malfoy!" Ron said sarcastically, setting the plate of food down on the table next to him along with some silverware. Ron shuffled back over to his chair and sat down. He noticed Malfoy was blushing slightly as he ran his hand along the table to find the silverware. Once he found it he felt for the edge of the plate and attempted to stab some food. Unfortunately, his fork ended up in the mashed potatoes, then coming up to his mouth with no food on it. Malfoy swore under his breath, and Ron could see that he was frustrated.

"Do you want help?" he volunteered carefully.

"Fuck off. I don't need your damn pity, Weasley. I'm sure this is all quite amusing for you."

Ron laughed.

"You think I have _pity_ for you, Malfoy? Well you're sorely mistaken. I only offered because you look hungry, so get over yourself."

"Fine," Malfoy conceded. "I'm just not used to being a fucking cripple."

Ron got up and walked over to where Malfoy was sitting dejectedly. He took the knife and fork from Malfoy wordlessly and cut up the meat. When he was done, he set the utensils back in the silent boy's hands.

"There's some roast on the left side of the plate, with gravy on it, and the mashed potatoes are on the right. There's also some rolls right above your plate if you want them."

Malfoy started to eat tentatively at first, then devouring the food once he'd developed a semblance of where things were.

Ron took that as a thank you.

When Malfoy had finished, it finally occurred to Ron to check the time. It was late. Really late.

"Fuck!" Ron exclaimed. "It's past midnight. No way I'm getting back to Gryffindor without getting caught!"

"You'll stay here," Malfoy replied, as if it had never been a question. "I can't use my wand anymore," he continued, his tone turning bitter, "but you being able to see and all, you just _might_ be able to conjure up a bed."

"You know you don't have to be so damn nasty about it."

"Well how would you like it, being stuck in here friendless?! You think it's a bleeding holiday? Cause it's not. I'm pathetic."

"Well, yeah, right now you're pathetic. You're _whining_."

Ron conjured himself a bed.

"I'm going to sleep," he announced.

Draco stood up without saying anything. He carefully paced over to his bed where he picked up his pyjamas. Counting his steps, he made his way for the bathroom.

"Weasley?"

"Yeah?"

"Just, don't move anything."

Ron put the chair he was sitting in back where it had been and climbed into his bed.

A minute later he heard Draco find his way slowly back to his own bed.

As Draco lay there, he realized he had already proven his father wrong. He told someone.


	7. I'll Be Fine

When Draco woke up the next morning, he was alarmed to hear pronounced snoring coming from a few feet away. It took him several seconds to realize that it was only Weasley, and suddenly the prior night came flooding back to him. He could smell breakfast from outside his chambers, and realized Weasley had overslept. _Typical of him, not to think ahead enough to set an alarm clock,_ he thought scathingly. Another part of him immediately felt bad for the sentiment, given the slight amity that had begun to develop the previous night. Draco carefully climbed out of bed and padded over to the sleeping boy, using the loud snores to find him.  
"Weaselby! You're going to miss breakfast!" Draco reached out, found Ron's shoulder, and jostled it.

"Whaa-?!" Ron started.

"I _said_, you're going to miss breakfast. Honestly, Weasley, and I thought you called yourself a food-lover!"

"Shit! How late am I? What time is it?" Ron asked, springing to life.

"About quarter past 'how the hell can I tell'," Malfoy replied sarcastically.

"Not a morning person, I take it," Ron replied, spelling the wrinkles out of his clothes. "So I'll see you in class?"

"No… you're not so good with bits of information, are you? See, I'm blind. I can't use a wand or go skipping down the halls anymore," Malfoy spat.

"Oh yeah," Ron responded lamely. "Then I guess I'll see you around…" he said, letting himself out the door.

Draco was livid. How dare the Weasel act so nonchalant! This should never have happened to him in the first place. He should have been out there with everyone else, headed towards his first class of the year, not stuck in some room like an invalid. _What's the point of school if I can't use a wand or get a job, anyway? _It was a thought Draco had carefully avoided until then. But it had been tugging at the back of his mind since he had been unceremoniously dumped at Hogwarts by his parents, a week before the start of school. Dumbledore had promised his father that Draco would get tutoring in all the subjects he could still participate in, but his tutoring wasn't due to begin for another week. This left him alone, in his room, with nothing to do but mope. So mope he did. Later that morning, a house elf did finally bring him some breakfast, but it lay untouched until it was cleared to make room for the lunch another house elf brought to him. Draco thought back to the conversation he had had with Ron that morning. The Weasel clearly didn't understand how much Draco was going through, and probably didn't care either. The thought hit him like a blow to the stomach. _Why would he care, anyway? _Draco wondered. _He has no reason; he doesn't get anything for being friends with me… He's probably telling his friends all about how pathetic I was. _It was disgusting, the emotion he was being overcome with. He needed to get his head back together. Displays of emotion meant weakness, and he couldn't be weak. If he were to be honest, he felt like crying, but a pitiful release wasn't worth the shame of crying. So Draco headed for his bed. Halfway there, a hard object connected with his shin and he fell awkwardly onto Ron's forgotten camp bed. Draco cursed hard and crawled the couple remaining metres. He climbed up onto his bed, falling asleep dejectedly.

Ron couldn't pay attention in his classes. Two seconds after Professor Binns had started explaining why the Goblins rebelled in 1326, Ron's mind was already on the forlorn blond he had left that morning. He hadn't bothered to tell Harry or Hermione where he had been, firstly because they hadn't asked, and secondly because he didn't think they'd believe him. It was hard to explain how the snarky Slytherin had suddenly turned into a person. A flawed one, granted, but someone who felt, at least. Realizing that neither of his Gryffindor friends had asked where he had been the night before made Ron feel alone. It wasn't helped as he realized how rude he had been to Malfoy in his effort to leave quickly. Normally he wouldn't have cared, but here was one person who seemed at least slightly pleased to have him around. _Well,_ he thought to himself, _that's awfully simple with Malfoy. He doesn't __have_ _anyone else to talk to. I'm sure I wouldn't be his first choice. _Ron sighed. He knew what he had to do.

Later that afternoon, as soon as he had finished his classes, Ron had parted from his housemates and headed off in the direction of the kitchens. He figured this was a good excuse, were anybody to ask where he was going. No one did, however, and soon he found himself outside of Draco's room. He knocked tentatively at the door, then waited a few seconds. He was just about to walk away when a groggy voice came from the other side.

"What?!"

"Malfoy, could I come in?" Ron said timidly.

"Why, so you can rub it in my face some more that I'm stuck here?" Malfoy replied acridly.

"No, I came to apologize," Ron said, sounding remorseful.

"Very well," Draco said tersely, "the door wasn't locked anyway…"

Ron twisted the plain brass knob and let himself into Draco's chambers. Draco was sitting up in his bed, a pillow tucked behind his back.

"Look, Draco…" Ron started with a sigh, "I was a git this morning and I apologize."

"Well, the Weasel apologizes. This is certainly a new experience for me. How long did it take before you asked Granger what to do?" he spat. Ron noticed the disconcerting way in which the boy glared unseeingly at the space to the right of where he stood.

"You're a git, Malfoy. You know that? For your information, I didn't talk to Hermione about you. I haven't told Harry either. I came to apologize because I was rude. But now I don't feel so bad. You clearly don't give a shit. And it's not like you have anyone else to talk to!" Ron immediately felt guilty about the last bit of what he'd said.

"Get out," Draco hissed in a menacing tone of voice.

Ron didn't need to be told twice. He made his way out of the room quickly, slamming the door behind him. _Damnit, _he swore to himself. He hadn't intended to make their rift bigger, but Malfoy hadn't been at all kind when he had offered up an apology. Maybe, Ron figured, they weren't meant to be friends after all. As much as he disliked the blond, Ron had to admit that the boy's company had been welcome. All the same, he didn't figure it would be easy or possible to patch things up. _I give up, _Ron thought to himself defeatedly.

Several days had passed since their big argument, but Ron couldn't get it off his mind. Things had continued downhill with his friends, and they now spoke mostly only to say hello in passing. Harry and Hermione were officially a couple now, and had little time for Ron. He had taken to sitting with Seamus and Dean in classes, but they already had their own bond. Ron caught himself thinking about Malfoy a lot, often spacing out in his classes or while at the library doing homework. In particular, he kept remembering the hurt look Draco had quickly hidden after he accused the boy of having no friends. _It's true, _Ron thought to himself. _No one else cares about him anymore, not even the Slytherins. _Life had gone on without him, and aside from some rumors that he had transferred or died, no one really spoke of him.

Ron couldn't sleep. He decided to go get some food to settle his stomach, but he knew the real reason he was headed for the kitchens. He padded silently through the corridors, praying he wouldn't run into Mrs. Norris or Filch. Soon, he was approaching Malfoy's door. He promised himself he would just listen for a moment before continuing towards the kitchens. Pressing his ear against the solid wood door, he held his breath. He couldn't hear a sound and assumed Draco was asleep. Ron sighed quietly and continued onwards to get food.

The house elves were, thankfully, all asleep by the time he entered the kitchen. He saw a plate of jam filled scones. Grabbing them, he headed over to where they stored the flasks of pumpkin juice. He made to grab one glass from the cabinet nearby, but a whim struck him and he grabbed two. Ron put everything on a tray and snuck quietly back out of the kitchens. He got back to the door outside Draco's room and noticed it was still silent. He made a silent prayer to Merlin as he opened the door.

Draco was sitting in the armchair several feet from his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His head was resting down on his knees, but as he heard the door open his head shot up and he quickly straightened out the rest of his body.

"Who's there?" he asked with a twinge of fear.

"It's me," Ron said calmly.

"What are you doing here? Did I not make it clear enough to get through your thick skull that I didn't want to see you ever again?!" Draco said irritably, though he made no move to do anything.

"I brought scones," Ron stated simply.

And with that he crossed the room to sit down in the chair across from Malfoy's. He set the tray down on the table next to them, reminding himself of the first night he'd come in.

"Here," Ron offered, picking up a jam-filled scone, taking Draco's hand, and placing it onto his palm.

Draco said nothing but closed both hands around it and brought it to his mouth. Giving it a sniff, he began to eat. Ron smiled a bit and grabbed one for himself. After both were finished, he poured each of them some of the juice.

"Do you want some pumpkin juice?" he asked cautiously.

Draco nodded, clearly not quite ready to talk to the redhead. Ron took the glass and guided it carefully into Draco's feebly outstretched hand. While the blond drank, Ron took the moment to take a look at him. He had dark circles around his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping, and his normally porcelain skin had taken on a sickly translucent quality. Ron almost felt it was disrespectful to see him in such an undignified state.

"Are there more scones?" Malfoy demanded.

Ron gently handed him another.

"You don't look so good," Ron said with a hint of concern.

"Well I just can't seem to find a mirror around here!" Draco replied sarcastically.

"Have you been eating?"

"Not very much," he replied, relaxing back in his chair a fraction. "The stuff the house elves bring me is all rubbish. Just because I can't see doesn't mean the vegetables don't still taste horrid."

Ron laughed.

"I bet it's all very funny for you, Weasley. Sitting in the Great Hall chowing away on pastry-wrapped Beef Wellington while I'm stuck here with a plate of steamed Brussels sprouts!"

"Sorry… I mean, if you want, I guess I could, em, bring you dinner sometime," Ron said, his voice trailing down to a whisper at the end. He could feel his cheeks burning and thanked Merlin that Draco couldn't see them.

"Then what do I have to do?"

"What?"

"What's in it for you?" Draco said, sounding genuinely confused. "Do you expect me to pay you or something?"

"No!" Ron said incredulously.

"Then why would you offer?"

"Erm, I just thought it might be nice, since you're not eating. If you don't want me to I won't!"

"You're barmy, but I'm not going to turn down a decent meal."

"I'm not barmy! That's just the kind of things friends do!" Ron realized what he'd said approximately 1.5 seconds after he had said it.

"Really?" Draco said quietly, as if he expected Ron to jump up and yell 'Just kidding!' and leave.

"Yeah," Ron replied cautiously with a shrug. "I mean, I know you don't like me that much, but…"

"You're not a complete git." They sat in silence until Draco broke it.

"So where are Potter and the Mudblood? I thought you guys were mates."

"Don't call her Mudblood. And they're dating now, so they just don't have as much time anymore…"

"They ditched you. I mean, really Weasley, you might as well face the facts."

"I don't want to talk about it. So how come everyone in Slytherin thinks you're dead?"

Malfoy sighed dejectedly.  
"I guess that's what my father told them, then…" He bit his lip as if to stop himself from feeling anything else. "If you'll excuse me a minute, I need to go to the loo." Draco rose hesitantly from his chair and held on to the back of it as he turned around. Ron watched him step carefully to his bathroom, shutting the door behind himself.

Ron started to think more about the conversation they had just had. He quickly shut out all thoughts that Harry and Hermione had truly ditched him. The idea that Malfoy had so few friends he could disappear without anyone checking on him was a bit disturbing. _Well, I suppose _I_ never really liked him before, _Ron thought to himself, _but I thought the Slytherins liked him a bit more than that… _Ron was roused from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening again. Draco's face was slightly pink, but Ron couldn't decide if it was the result of crying or just a blush. Draco strode a bit more confidently towards the chairs, but misjudged his path but a bit and managed to catch his foot on one leg of his bed.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed from his position on the ground, nursing his ankle. Ron jumped up and rushed over.

"Are you ok?!" Ron demanded as he knelt down next to the fallen boy.

"I twisted my ankle," Draco replied, grimacing.

"I'm going to go get Madam Pomfrey."

"No!" Draco said quickly. "If you do that then she'll think I need a babysitter or something. Just let me take care of this."

"Can you even walk?"

"I'll be fine," Draco insisted. Ron grabbed his arm to help him stand up, and it quickly became apparent that Malfoy couldn't put his weight on the injured ankle. Ron ducked his head under Malfoy's arm and proceeded to help him to the head of his bed, pulling the covers down for him.

"Here, just sit down on your bed… Are you sure you don't want me to get someone?"

"I don't need anyone's bloody help!" Malfoy sat grimacing on the edge of his bed as his words seemed to echo throughout the room. "Sorry," he amended. "I just don't need some adult fussing over me and then going and telling Dumbledore I need some caretaker or nanny or something."

"I understand, I suppose," Ron replied as he helped Draco gingerly pivot his legs onto the bed, "but you should really do something about your ankle, mate. It's all red and swollen…"

"Well?" Malfoy asked expectantly, "can't you do an Episkey or something?"

"Ermmm," Ron began, stalling for time, "I've never done that one successfully."

"Merlin Weasley! Well can you just try it right now? If you screw up though, I'll track you down…"

"Well that sounds like a wonderful deal for me! If I do it well, you'll probably make some sarcastic comment about luck, but if I screw up you'll hurt me?"

"Weas— Ron, I promise I won't do anything but damnit mate could you hurry it up?"

Ron squared his shoulders and bent over Draco's dramatically swollen ankle, which was starting to turn purple. He gripped his wand and whispered the spell almost tentatively. The ankle returned to its original size and faded to a faint pink color, as if it had been lightly squeezed instead of brutally twisted. As an afterthought, Ron lifted his wand back up and waved it, whispering a faint '_Ferula!_' as he did so. A splint appeared over the blonde's ankle.

"How'd you learn that last part?" Draco demanded.

"A friend used it on me once," Ron volunteered after a second.

"Not bad Weasley."

"Thanks. How's it feel?"

"Better now. At least good enough that no one will notice, not that anyone else but house elves visit anyhow…"

"So what will you do here with no wand?" Ron asked curiously, leaning against a column at the foot of Draco's four poster bed.

"Thanks for the reminder," Draco replied sarcastically. "I'm supposed to get tutoring in a couple subjects, the ones even invalids like me can master I suppose."

"That's rotten," Ron concluded lamely.

He looked at the blonde boy, taking everything in bit by bit. Draco still looked sickly, his skin translucent and his hair messied from sleeping. His face seemed permanently emotionless, a result of his state of unhappiness. His lifeless eyes gazed unseeingly up to the ceiling as his head lay on arms folded behind his head. In any other case, Ron would have given the guy a hug or a pat on the back. But this was Malfoy. Ron was familiar with the rock-strong resolve of the Malfoy family and figured Draco wouldn't appreciate such an acknowledgement of his weakened state.

As if sensing Ron's thoughts, Draco piped up.

"So how awful do I look?" Malfoy said it as if it didn't matter to him, adding a small chuckle in for an air of nonchalance, but Ron knew he valued his appearance.

"Honestly?"

"Hit me. Given the gorgeous features I started off with, it couldn't be that bad."

Ron snorted a little at that, but gave the boy the truth.

"Not great. You look a tad sick and your hair's all ruffled."

"This is rubbish," Malfoy muttered after a moment. "Do you know how dreadful it is to be blind, Weasley? I'm sure you're enjoying it. I don't get to watch you squirm when I find your weakness or give you my patented death glare. But I can't do a thing for myself. And of the people that care, everyone babies me. Just because I can't see doesn't mean I've regressed mentally to the state of some idiotic child who needs help with every damn thing."

"I didn't think _I _babied you," Ron responded.  
"I said everyone that _cares_," Malfoy clarified bitterly.

"Then you're wrong," Ron said awkwardly, as if unable to say how he felt outright.

"Honestly, Weasley, I don't get it. My dad's probably cut off my inheritance anyway, so why are you still here?"

"I don't want your money!" Ron sounded offended. "I'm here because you seem unhappy and I understand that, ok?! I'm here because I don't have other friends. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? You're not happy until someone else is miserable?"  
"No!" Draco looked genuinely surprised, Ron noted as he glanced up. "Weasley, I didn't mean to… that doesn't make me happy. I'm just not used to having a friend I guess. In Slytherin there's always bloody alliances or strategy below the surface of friendships."

"Move over."

"What?" Draco asked, mystified.

"I said move over. All that spell work on your ankle has me bushed. I wanna lie down."

"Weasley's asserting himself!" Draco replied, shifting his body over on the bed to accommodate the other boy.

"Git," Ron whispered under his breath as he lay down on the bed.

"You know Weasley, my hearing's fine."

"That's why I didn't bother yelling," Ron replied snarkily.

"You've been spending too much time with me," Draco replied with a smile.

The two boys lay in silence for a while, eventually succumbing to sleep.


End file.
